Besides. . .
by Windlion
Summary: My first attempt at a digi-fic - a short one shot from Koushiro's p-o-v. ^^;;; Shounen-ai hint, too, but if you blink you'll miss it. . .


Notes: This is an odd one for me, as my muses have usually only focused on GW. . . So, you're getting the pleasure of reading my first digi-fic. ^_^;;;; Comments, please? 

(The shounen-ai hint lies in one sentence: yet including it makes a world of difference. Sorry that some of you early visitors got the editted version. . . (It was previously formatted since I was sending it to a very resolutely "clean" site. -_-;;;;;)) 

E-mail: wyndewolf@netscape.net

Warnings: None, maybe a little unhappiness. . . *Sweatdrops* To say more would give it away. 

Disclaimer: I don't own 'em, never will. ^_^;;; This is non-profit, and sueing me will merely result in you owning a nice-sized lint ball and a few rabid dust bunnies. . . 

****

Besides. . .

It's late afternoon as I open my laptop, having just returned to my room after class. For one dizzying moment, I half expect the waving icon of Gennai to show up, announcing a new e-mail providing key information. . . Of course, it doesn't. That was years ago. . . With a few well-practiced clicks, I open a word document and begin to work on my assignment. Tentomon would have laughed at my silly forgetfulness. . . 

I pause in my typing, mind frozen in place for a moment. 

Tentomon. . . I'd forgotten him for so long. After we left the Digiworld for good, I pushed his memory away into a background closet in my mind, out of the way, and utterly forgotten him but for what seeps under the door occasionally. It's a trick I've employed several times. It's easier that way. You can't miss what you don't know. . . 

I sigh, then push the memories away, hard. It's no good to remember. . . I'll never see him again. I'll never see any of them again. When we were done, it's like we fell apart. . . Jyou had medicine, Mimi had fashion, Yamato had his band, Takeru had Hikari, Hikari had Taichi and school, Taichi had soccer, Sora had her family and sports, and I. . . I had my computer. I've always had my computer. It's my own little world, just like the others' have theirs. Then again, I've not seen them for years, ever since we just stopped running into each other. 

Oh, we _tried_ to keep in touch. But there was just too much to do, especially when school and activities intervened. Sure, some of them kept in touch. . . it's hard to completely lose track of your brothers or sisters. But me. . . I'm an only child. Actually, I don't know that for sure, since I was adopted, but. . .

I'm getting off track. I have to finish this report for next Thursday. . . 

As I type, I hear my roommate talking at me as he enters the room noisily. I pretend to listen, but continue typing. In the back of my mind, I absorb what he's telling me about his plans with his girlfriend for the big dance coming up, then register it as useless. I've not gone to any of the dances or activities since coming to this boarding school. . . I've just not seen the point in it. 

Besides, my parents are working hard to send me here. Why waste their money with things that will only detract from my studying?

When I finally look up again, I realize I'm alone, and that several hours have passed. It's still early enough to get in several hours of studying, though, while I still have some peace and quiet since Sakka's out. 

I reach for my calculus books, and do my best to study. After an hour of calculus, then an hour of english, I can't take it anymore. I close the books with a sigh, then push back my chair. It bumps lightly into the upright wardrobe, and I smile wryly as I stand up. Since the dorm rooms are so small, it's easy to feel like a sardine. Luckily I don't have a lot of things to clutter up my side, like Sakka does. . . 

I glance over at his side of the room for a moment. His desk, right next to his closet, is cluttered, pencils and paper flying everywhere. He has a cork board over his little desk, full of pictures of his family, his friends, his girlfriend, even his dog and fish. I look back at my desk, books stacked neatly, laptop sitting still and humming quietly, light bent precisely, pens and pencils all put away. It looks bare in comparison. 

I look back across the room as I realize I never got a picture of Tentomon, not in any of his forms. . . 

I distract myself by slowly shifting my gaze across the many posters wall-papering Sakka's walls, even his cieling. He's a sucker for modern pop, apparently, and even has a poster of Yamato's band. . . 

Yamato. I hadn't realized he had become so sucessful. I've not heard from him in a long time. . . I've never even tried to talk to him. But he's on tour, and besides, he's been doing very well by himself, and certainly doesn't need my help anymore. 

There's a few scattered sports posters, as well. . . I'm almost certain I spot Taichi or Sora in more than one. I shake my head sharply and look again; it's just my eyes playing tricks on me. Besides, they're still in school; they couldn't possibly be on a professional team. 

My eyes wander over the pictures of idol singers, just as my mind wanders through the open door of that forbidden mental closet. Would Mimi be designing any of those clothes? Modeling precisely the same thing? I cast a glance at Sakka's open wardrobe, then shake my head and smile. She'd never approve of anything Sakka or I wore. . . I bet she would do great in the fashion industry by herself. She was always headstrong, and besides, she always had more concern with fashion than any one I've ever met. 

Continuing in the logical path, I look across at Sakka's bed, wedged in the corner between one wall and his wardrobe. Uneconomically, he has his desk on the other side of the wardrobe, leaving everything on the ground; my desk supports one side of my raised bunk bed, while the wardrobe holds the other. 

Sakka never makes his bed neatly, and today is no exception. Casually thrown on top of his rumpled bed is his book bag, with several books spilling out of it. The one on top is a medical ethics book, written by a leading doctor. I can't help but wonder how long it'll be before Jyou is writing those. . . He's always been interested in medicine, and besides, he's the respectable type. I know he'll do well in medical school, so long as he doesn't have any distractions. . . Distractions, like some stranger bothering him for no good reason. 

I smile sadly and turn away from my contemplations. I busy myself with getting ready for bed, then climb into it about 15 minutes later. 

For some reason, as my eyes acclimate to the dark, I'm extremely reluctant to close that door I unthinkingly wandered through. It's been so long, and the memories don't want to stop. . . 

But they have to. They stopped when I moved away. . . They _must_ stop now. 

It's a long time before I can force myself to open my eyes, my breath shaky as I can feel the pillow wet with tears beneath my cheek. Why is it so difficult now? 

I lay on my side in the dark, staring at the wall, trying hard to stop the tears. The past didn't matter anymore, it didn't! It didn't matter that they had been the best friends I had ever known. . . .

I finally force my eyes to close, firmly pushing the emotions back and locking the door behind them. I do my best to ignore the emptiness as I welcome the darkness.

Besides, I could always contact them later. . . 


End file.
